Closure
by Rover1988
Summary: Brendan finally lets Cheryl visit him in Prison after 5 years. Can she convince him to help Ste help himself? Will be three chapters. 3 different visitors.
1. Chapter 1

You walk in, slowly, cautiously, both panic and relief searing through your bones. Panic because of what you fear she's come to tell you, relief because it's been 5 long years since you last saw her and her tear stained face wave goodbye to you in the hospital. You hang back as the prisoners in front of you part like the red sea and then you see her and you can't help but let a small smile sneak onto your lips.

She's sat there, legs crossed, arms folded, judging the other prisoners and their lives. She's got a white fur coat on, pink bow in her hair, nails painted a blood red. She looks ridiculous but it comforts you. This is the first bit of normal you've seen in 5 years and you're glad to see she's not changed a bit.

It's then that she sees you, stands up and pulls her tightly fitted dress down, wriggling from side to side as she does so. You've got your poker face on now. You have to, it's how you survive, it's how you've always survived. She opens her arms for a hug but you not going to give her one, no matter how much you just want to be held. You point to the seat that she'd flicked back and watch as she sits down before you calmly take your own seat.

She looks upset, hurt, maybe even offended but she doesn't understand what it's like to be away from the people you love. She'll never understand and you don't want her to, that's why you're in here after all. You keep your distance. Your legs are outstretched slightly but your arms remain close, hands gripping the sides of the metal chair.

She can't keep up the façade for long though and before you know it her arms are openly sprawled out on the table that separates you.

"How are you love?"

Simple question or at least it would be in normal circumstances. You can see her look to the cut above your right eye and you smile downwardly. "Every day's a party day Chez."

"Your hurt."

"I'm fine." You say, because you are. You're finally finding some inner peace, your paying your dues and it's been a long time coming. You are fine. Nothing more, nothing less. "You should see the other guy…"

She doesn't say anything. Knows that she can't. She doesn't really have the right to. "So…" You begin. "You had some news. Urgent, you said." You watch as she nods and your gut sinks slightly. "Are you…you're ok yeah?"

"Yeah I'm fine."

You gulp and crick your neck. "Is…is…" You can't bring yourself to say his name. Haven't uttered it for 5 years. You couldn't because he is your one weakness and you can't be weak. Not here.

"Ste's fine babe."

Relief swims through your body. Your limbs loosen as you close your eyes and exhale. She's ok, he's ok, you know you're kids are ok. You stand up suddenly. "Then you can have nothing more to say." You turn around, need to head back to your cell before you spend enough time with her to miss her when she's gone. Although you know that you already do.

"No Bren wait!" You stop in your tracks and turn around. "Please…I'm here now aren't I? We might as well…you know talk." Your sceptical. "And I do have some news."

Your eyes shift from left to right and you realise you've caught the attention of some prisoners and some of the guards. You can't make a scene so instead you nod and stride back over, sitting down. You stare at her, waiting for her to speak but instead she slides a small photo over to you. You pick it up with delicate fingers and allow a brief smile. "This him?"

She nods sadly. "So you do read my letters then?" You sigh and place the picture of the small child back down on the table, sliding it back over with your index finger. She picks it up and places it back in her bag. "He looks just like his Uncle Brendan doesn't he?" You manage to huff out a small laugh and you can sense by the look on her face that there's more. "We got him christened last week. Brendan Tenbury-Newant. Ste's his godfather. Says he's got your eyes."

You tense immediately at hearing his name again and you look over accusingly. "Why you here Chez? You made it sound like you had a life threatening illness…"

She shrugs, unashamedly. "I knew you'd never agree to see me if I didn't." And she was right because you've spent five years knocking back prison visit orders from her and St…Steven. "And someones life is in danger."

You arch your neck and sit up, your heart rate accelerating. "Go on…"

"It's Ste."

You churn your hand in front of her, signalling her to move on, give you more. Panic is already laced in your eyes and she must have noticed because she's quick to try and put you at ease.

"No, his life's not in danger or anything. At least, not anymore."

"What do you mean 'not anymore'?" You know you shouldn't ask but you can't help it. This is what you feared when you'd agreed to the order. You feared that she'd mention his name and you wouldn't be able to help yourself until you found out every last detail about him. Like you said, he is your weakness. Your kryptonite.

"Well…" She begins playing with the wedding band that sits tightly on her ring finger. "When, you…you know…" And you do. You think about it every day. "Went away…he, couldn't cope. And he got in with the wrong crowd. Selling drugs…getting in fights…" No, no, no. This isn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to move on, be better off, get his kids back, live his life. "He was trying to get money together to buy the club."

"The club? Why?"

"Because it's where he felt closest to you. He said it felt like home." She smiled sadly and you have to look away because if you don't, you might break and you can't allow that, won't allow it. "Then one day he tried to rip off the wrong person and…"

She trails off but you want her to continue, as much as you can probably fill in the gaps. "He got hurt. Badly. Got beaten to within an inch of his life."

You feel your fists tighten, your stomach twists, you chew on the side of your mouth to try to stop the inevitable twitch that is about to come. "Name."

"What?"

"What's his fucking name Chez?" You need to know. If he's in here, you'll take great pleasure in killing him and if he's out there, then you need to make damn sure somebody else does.

"Nobody knows Bren. Ste wouldn't say and, well to be honest, we've all moved on now. It was well over 18months ago. In fact, it probably gave him the push he needed to get out of that world."

"My world you mean." You think out loud and finally feel the touch of Cheryl's skin on yours as she rubs your loose hand.

"He's met someone." It comes like a bolt from the blue. You expected it, it's what you wanted for him to be cared for, looked after but it doesn't stop it from stabbing you straight in the heart. You've been shot at, punched, kicked but nothing can compare to the pain that you feel right now, in this moment, hearing those three little words.

"His name's Chris…" Christopher. "He works in accountancy." Money grabber. "He's kind." Boring. "He's sweet." Sleazy. "And he really cares about Ste."

You clench your jaw and take a breath. "Why Chez? Why are you telling me this?"

"Because he has the chance to be happy Bren. But as much as he tries, he can't be. He doesn't say it but…it's like he feels like he's betraying you."

"What do you want me to do Chez? I've told him to let go. I've rebuked all of his visits. Sent back all of his letters. What more can I possibly do?"

"See him." She says. Like it's just that simple. "See him and give him closure. Help him to move on."

You shuffle in your seat and a sad, manic smile flickers on your face, it's the only thing that's stopping you from screaming. See him. Just like that. You don't trust yourself to push him away. It's easier with bits of paper but if you see those eyes looking at you, pleading with you…you know that it's neon impossible. You've already done it once, in the hospital as you watched them drag him away. You won't be able to do it again. "I can't." You force out finally. "I can't see him."

"But Bren…"

"I can't!" You repeat, louder and with more force this time. Your eyes are wide and frenzied. "It's out of the question."

It's then that you both hear the bell ring, calling time on your meeting. She looks at you, something like disappointment tinged in her eyes. She closes her bag and nods forbearingly. "Fine." She says as she stands up. "But if you love him as much as I think you do, you'll let him. Because he didn't deserve any of this."

She turns around and you rub your face harshly, her last words ringing in your ears. You bare your teeth and call out her name. "Chez!" She turns back around and looks at you hopefully. "Would he die for him?"

"What?"

"Christopher. Would he put his life on the line….Would he die for him?"

She shrugs. "You'd have to ask him that."

You nod, maybe you will. "Set it up." You say simply as you stand. "I want to meet him."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the lovely reviews guys. This is the first time I've done this so I really appreciate it!**

You're sat with your back pressed against the cool, stony wall. You bounce your makeshift ball against the cell door. It's made out of elastic bands from the hundreds of letters you get a week from sick fucks who want to marry you, want to be your friend, your penpal, want to know your story. Turns out people love a good serial killer.

It's only early, you guess, by the way the sun is positioned lowly in the sky but you can't sleep. Haven't been able to since Cheryl's visit last week, when, in one of your madder moments, you'd asked to meet the man who would take Steven away for good. Keep him safe. Make him happy. Today is that fateful day and that's why you can't sleep and why your little rubber ball is the only thing that is keeping you sane.

"Knock it off down there would ya?!" The voice from the top bunk groans. "I'm trying to get some sleep here!"

You catch your ball and stand up, listen as he turns on his side. You clench your jaw and walk over to him. Your eyes peering over his fat, sweating face. You wait for him to yawn before jamming the rubber ball in his mouth so that you can whisper in his ear, all teeth on show. "I've told ye I can make you sleep permanently. 6 has always been my lucky number!" Yes, you've made a serial killer reference but you might as well use it. It's what keeps people on their toes, it's what keeps you safe mostly.

Your cell mate gags on the ball and you take it from off the top of his blanket, after wiping it on his bed sheet. "Jesus, what's got into you?" You hear him say as he shuffles to sit up. "Anybody would think you don't like visiting day."

"I don't." You say as you stroke the hairs of your moustache.

"Yeah well I'd give my right arm for someone to visit me."

"It can be arranged." You hiss and you know that'll shut him up for a while. You begin to be consumed by your own thoughts again, what this guy will look like, sound like, act like. Will he be good enough for Steven? Will he take care of him? It's then that the alarm for breakfast goes off.

You walk over to your bed, throw on a t-shirt and walk to the door. When you come back, you will have decided whether you will meet Steven again. And that is the thought that terrifies you.

….

You do the same routine as last week. Wait for the other prisoners to find their loved ones while you keep your eyes peeled for him, not that you need to because you can feel eyes burning into yours, hatred, rage embedded in them. This should be fun then. You puff out your chest, you're not sure why, you guess it's a natural alpha-male reaction like you are two Lions about to fight for the right to look after your pride.

He looks slightly older than Steven but younger than you. Dark floppy hair, casual jeans and t-shirt, some stubble. He's well built, looks strong enough. He's not bigger than you but then you've had lots of time to work out in here. It helps break up the day. He stands as you approach the table and you don't take your eyes off him as you open your mouth to speak.

"Please, step into my office." You say cooly as you motion your hand at the metal chair. He waits for a moment, then ultimately succumbs. You'll take that. 1-0 you. You join him, hands out in front of you on the table, back rigid – making sure he's aware that this is your space. He's on your territory now.

"So, you're the infamous Brendan Brady." He states matter of factly, breaking the silence between you.

"As I live and breathe." You say as you stare at him. "Impressive right?"

You watch as he scoffs and turns away and that's when you notice a small tattoo between his ear and shaved side burns. "Not my type mate." He says simply and you smile accusingly as you tilt you head to the left slightly, weighing him up, judging him. "So come on then…why am I here?"

You shrug. You're not really sure yourself. Not sure how you can make yourself believe that anyone is good enough for Steven, when you didn't even think you were despite how much you wanted to be. "Why did you agree to come?"

It's his turn to shrug now. "Not sure." He says in his thick Manchester accent. "Wanted to see whose shadow I've been walking in for the past year I guess."

So they've been together a year. Another harsh stab in the heart. You drum your fingers on the table in front of you to fill the silence. "Am I what you expected?" You ask, curious to know how Steven sees you know because you know that's the only eyes he'll see you through.

"Looks wise…yeah." He nodded. "Although Ste said you might have a beard now, not a moustache."

"He knows you're here?"

Your heart speeds up at the thought but you are quickly brought back down to earth when he shakes his head. "No…but, you know, he used to talk about you and stuff."

"Used to?"

He nods. "Yeah. Not so much anymore but I know he thinks about you. Wonders what you're upto…how you're coping…" You're not; without him, you think to yourself but you can't let Christopher see that so you keep your eyes steely, focused on him. He looks down to his feet which swing under the chair. "I…er…" He coughs, to stop himself choking on his words. "I used to hear him cry. When he thought I was asleep."

You involuntarily gulp and it's the first slip of the mask but you're determined it's going to be the only one. "Always was too soft for his own good that boy."

"Too soft?! He's the strongest person I know!" He says, the girt in his teeth being the only thing that stops it coming out as a full blown yell. Normally you wouldn't allow anyone to even raise their voice at you but, you want this, you need this, some fight, some passion, some pride…in him.

"You must hate me." You say as you lean back in your chair.

He looks at you straight in the eyes and nods. "Yeah…yeah I have to. Because he won't." He says the last part with venom. The betrayal he feels written all over his face. But then he sighs and you can visably see the tension seep out of him. "I know you'll always have his heart but…I just want a piece of it…however small. I want him to tell me his problems…I want him to let me hold him when we've made love…I just…I just want him to let me in."

You close your eyes, you underestimated how difficult talking about Steven in such an intimate way would be. The thought of someone else's tongue pushing it's way into his mouth, the idea that someone else has found his ticklish spot behind his left earlobe, the idea that he screams out someone elses name in pleasure…"Would you die for him?" You suddenly find yourself saying.

He looks confused. Perplexed even. "What? What kind of question is that?"

"A simple one." At least it was for you. You watch as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to think of the words. Except you don't have time to think. Not when a gun is pointing at the one you love. "There is a gun…" You say, leaning forward, closing your distance. "…it's pointing at him square between the eyes….do you jump in front of it…take the hit…save his life because he's the better man…the only man?" It's like he's frozen to the spot. His hazel eyes are moving from side to side frantically following the trail of thought in his mind. You decide to speed up the process as you quickly lift your hand from your lap and press a makeshift gun shaped hand into his forehead. "Do ye take the hit, lay your life on the line? Yes. Or. No."

"He doesn't like the crusts." He says quickly, strangely. It's not what you were expecting and it throws you so much that you take your hand away from his head and sit back.

"What?"

"Ste…he…he doesn't like the crusts on his bread so I cut them off." You know that, of course you do but you're intrigued all the same. "He, er…he doesn't like too much milk on his cereal either. Says if he wanted soggy cornflakes he'd…"

"Buy them from price slice." You finish and smile nostalgically, if only for a second.

"He's got three small freckles on his lower back and they kinda look like a smile. He gets ticklish quickly, especially that spot behind his ear…you know the…" He looks up at you as if expecting you to reminisce but you're not going to, at least not with him. "He always sees the best in people, no matter how badly they've treated him….but he's no mug either."

You look to the floor, not wanting him to see the thin films of liquid that are beginning to form in your eyes. You sniff back your threating tears and look back at him, directly in the eye. You nod your head purposefully. "I think we're done here."

He repeats your nod and stands up, holds out his hand for you to shake but as you stare past it he realises your not going to take up the offer. He withdraws his hand and turns to walk away. "Christopher?" You call and he stays rooted to the spot, still facing away. "Don't mess it up yeah?"

You sit there for the next couple of minutes content. Content that this lad has Steven's best interests at heart. Content but not happy. You'll never be happy in the knowledge that Steven is going to love someone else, rely on them… You need to fit the final piece of the jigsaw now. You need to see Steven.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for the reviews guys and for your patience. I'm so busy at the moment but finally got round to writing this. I'm also in the middle of writing another story. A longer one so keep an eye out. Thanks again!**

You woke up this morning and went through the usual routine. Yawn, stretch, shower, cuppa, cereal… Yeah, usual routine, for a usual day. Expect it wasn't a usual day. In fact, you'd probably never had a usual day for 5 years, ever since they tore you away from his lips, his side, his life – kicking and screaming. For 5 years you'd wrote letters that were returned; you'd asked for visits that were rejected, you'd even once got the mad idea to try and get yourself locked up. If you can't be together in the normal world then prison would do, anything would do. But apparently shop lifters don't get put with mass murderers. Because that's what they thought he was – a mass murderer, a monster, except he wasn't. He was your world, your entire being. You don't know how you've lived without him for so long, it's not even like you had your kids to fall back on so you didn't live. Not really, you simply existed.

Last week you picked up your mail, gave a small smile to Chris, your live in – well, your not sure what he is. A friend, a lover, a convenience. As you rifled through it, bills, debt, junk, more bills, you were intrigued by one small envelope. It looked official. You could only hope that it wasn't a court order for last months unpaid electricity bill. You tore it open carefully and pulled out a square of yellow piece of paper. Your heart stopped as your eyes focused on the black bold letters at the top -**'Convicted visiting order.'**

**Prisoner Name: Brady**

**Prison Number: 0024456 Prisoner Location: W1-10**

**Visitor Adult: Steven Hay **

**Relationship: Friend**

_Friend. _You read again. Like you ever have been or ever could be. You didn't have too much time to dwell on it as your eyes moved down to the final section_. 'Please book your visit.'_ You swallowed harshly, trying your best to lubricate your throat. You looked at it again, your eyes wide, manic but not tearful, there's no time for that. Your mind moved from excitement to dread, dread to hatred, hatred to love. Then you heard footsteps behind you and you pulled the envelope close to your chest.

"Everything ok?" Chris asked as he snaked his arms around you and kissed your neck.

"Yeah…" You whispered. "Yeah it is." You eased yourself away from him and reached for your tracksuit coat. "I got to go."

And then something strange happened as you reached out for the door handle and he called your name…

"You know I love you don't ya?" he said and as you turned and nodded at him, there was something in his eyes…like he knew something you didn't.

And that brings you back to the here and now. Like you said, you did the normal routine today, expect you knew it wasn't a normal day. You folded a small piece of paper that you'd had hidden in your bedside drawer and put it in your pocket. You look at your phone for the time. It's still too early to go. But it's better to be early. He never did like it when you were late. Everything you do links to him. The way you've styled your hair, the clothes you've worn, the aftershave you've used. You've thought about him so much that as you aimlessly glide through the kitchen, you forget that Chris is on the sofa. You feel a twinge of guilt as he smiles at you and you open your mouth, ready to give him an excuse. 'I've er…'

But he stops you. "You go do what you got to do Ste." He smiles, sadly, you think and you nod your head and leave.

…

Your hearts thumping in your chest, nails manically drumming on the desk in your shared room. Well, you say room. Cell. No matter how much you try to make it your home, it isn't, never could be. You got up, skipped breakfast. Couldn't eat. For once. Nerves overtaking your entire being – nerves at how he would be with you but more nerves on how you would be with him. How your body would react to him…your heart.

You've thought about changing your mind, thought about it all week but before you knew it, the day had come and you know you can't do it to him. Know only too well what it's like to be given hope and then for it to be snatched away again. But then essentially that's what you're trying to do isn't it? It's what you've always done to him in a way. You've beat him, broke him until you don't think he's got anything left to give. But he's stronger than people think your…that boy.

Suddenly your heart steps up another gear but your fingers stop drumming. Then you hear the footsteps but the officer needn't say anything. You can sense him, you think. You stand up and true enough the footsteps come to a halt outside your door.

"Brady." He says. "It's time."

You creak your neck to the side and roll your shoulders back. You feel your eyes glaze over. This is the day. The day that you break him for good.

….

You seem him first. He's in lose fitting tracksuit bottoms and a grey hoodie zipped up further enough so that he doesn't draw attention to himself but far enough down so that you see his white t-shirt peek through. He's looking around at the other prisoners at the left and right of him chewing on those perfect fingers of his. Jesus, he looks nervous but more than that, he looks beautiful and it makes you sick to the pit of your stomach.

As you peer at him from behind the broad shoulders of the prisoner in front of you, you notice he's hardly changed a bit but as you get closer you notice a dullness to his eyes, a small scar on his neck and above his eyebrow. It makes you involuntarily clench your fists at the thought of someone ruining his perfect face, the one that you've always thought was God's masterpiece. But then he sees you and your eyes meet his, despite everything in your body willing them not to. You stop in your tracks and suddenly, all the noise dies, all the people fade and like a hundred times before, you feel as though there is no one else in the room.

You're quickly shocked back into reality when you get a quick jab in the back of the prison guard. "Come on Brady – did your Dad never teach you it's rude to keep people waiting?"

No. You think. The one thing that man taught was how to be a monster. And you can't help but think how well he did at that… You've reached the table now. Not sure how as you no longer remember the journey. You slowly scrape back the feet of the chair and sit down, body as tense as the metal that you sit on. He's looking at you like he's seen a ghost - a shade of his golden skin being lost in the moment. There's a tension that has automatically been created. The atmosphere thick. Strangling the air around you.

"Steven." You say simply, feeling as though it's the only way you can remember to keep breathing.

He exhales suddenly. Sounds like he's been holding his breath for as long as you've been inside. You see a twinkle form in his eye and it makes you uneasy. You're not sure whether he's going to kill you or kiss you. You're not sure which you want him to do. But then the shine in his eyes disappears and he looks down to his hands as he picks at them in his lap.

"I tried to bring you some jam sandwiches but they took them off me."

You keep your eyes focused and you watch as he looks behind him at the coffee machine.

"You want a coffee?" He asks, like it's the simplest question in the world. "I'm going to get a coffee."

He quickly rises to his feet and fumbles in his pocket and as you watch him leave, you give your heart the chance it needs to swell. The sensation of it knocking the wind out of you. You can't show this weakness in front of him, not today. You notice his hands shake as he puts money into the machine but then your attention is drawn to his back and your eyes travel from his much broader shoulder blades down to his pert backside. You smile inwardly as you allow yourself to remember the nights that it was yours, the nights that he screamed your name as he rode you, the nights when you tenderly kissed the cheeks of it and whispered 'I love you'.

You have to stop those thoughts though because he's turned now and he's on his way back. He sits back down and slides a cardboard cup over to you. "There you go. Three sugars." You don't have the heart to tell him that you don't take sugar anymore. It did start to make you tubby after all. And you can't risk that. Not here.

You look at him as he blows over the lid and takes his first sip. You follow the liquid as it glides down his throat, his adams apple bobbing gently as he swallows. You take a sip of yours and the sweetness of it makes you close your eyes and you imagine, just for a moment that you're at home, the one that you built with him. Then you hear him speak.

"I knew it." He exhales, relief swimming over his body as he leans forward. "I knew you'd come for me. That you'd need me."

"Steven-"

"Everyone told me to forget about you and move on but I didn't cause I knew…I just … I knew." He's shaking his head manically in that way he does when he talks with all the confidence in the world but his eyes are wide and you can see that he doesn't really believe his words, no matter how hard he tries.

He puts his hand over yours and you jump back as though he's just burned you with an iron rod. You know that if you let him hold you for long enough, nothing, not even the hatred you have for yourself could tear you away from him. He's looking up at you now with innocent eyes. Hopeful eyes.

"I asked you to come here … so that I could tell you face to face…" Your eyes give way for a split second and he's noticed because he looks worried.

"Bren?" Oh God, the way it rolls off his tongue sends shivers down your spine. "Bren you're not ill are you?"

You notice that his hand has crept forward again so that his finger is gently brushing your arm. You shake your head and pull your arms into your lap. You gulp. You need to do this. For him. Always for him. "Leave me alone Steven."

"What? No…" He says as he shakes his head again. "I don't understand?"

Your eyes glaze over. You know you have to perform now. "Well you wouldn't would you? Are you really that stupid Steven?" Your stinging now. You know you are but this is the way it has to be. "I don't want your letters, I don't want your phone calls, I don't want your visits. I don't want you. You get that?" You press your finger into his temple. "I don't. Want. You." It takes all your will power not to slide that finger down and touch his full, pink lips.

"Nah…Nah your just saying that. Because you're scared. You need me now and your scared that I'm here."

You growl to the sky. "For fucks sakes Steven you really are thick aren't ye? Being in here, it's like a holiday compared to listen you rabbit on." Lies – you'd give anything just to hear his voice. "You get back to your life – away from me – and I can get back to mine and the 26year old I'm fucking in here."

You notice him look behind you, as if trying to find this imaginary fuck. Go on. You will with your eyes. Call me a bastard. Scream at me. Walk away from me… But he doesn't. He sits back, body visably relaxed and he smiles. Actually smiles as he looks you directly in the eye.

"What's so funny?"

"You are."

You huff and sit back intrigued. "Care to elaborate…" You gesture with a rolling hand.

"You're forgetting one thing here Brendan."

"And what's that?"

"That I know you better than you know yourself…" He says simply and he's right, he does because you've allowed him to, because you've given him every little part of you. He leans forwards so that his arms are on the table. "And I know what you're trying to do. Push me away...again. Keep me safe. Because I know that you think I'm better off without you."

You exhale and the release of pressure from your lungs means that your chest deflates slightly. He looks at you with a look that melts your heart and it shows in your body language. "I made you a promise…remember?" He has a hand on the side of your face now and before you even realise, your nuzzling into it, your eyes shut, taking every tiny sensation in. "I said I wasn't going to give up on you. And I won't. Not now, not ever."

And it's then that you feel soft lips on yours which you're sure you'll get a beating for later but at this moment you don't care and so you push forwards and open your mouth, tongue darting out to find his. Your fingertips have traced up his elongated neck and found their way into his hair, tugging and twisting at the small strands. His tongue runs along your teeth and you bite lightly on his bottom lip as you gently pull away from breath. You press your forehead into his, keeping the connection, slowly, keeping your eyes shut, not daring to open them in case this is all a dream.

"I love you." You say in a barely audible whisper.

"I love you too." He replies quietly. "Still….Forever."

You sigh and pull back slowly, eyes still shut. When you finally do open them, you look at your fingers which still hold the residue of his hair gel and then back to him, and you notice his eyes have lightened and he's smiling lightly.

"You silly git."

"That was my best big bad wolf act, Steven."

"Must be losing your touch."

"Must be." You smile back and then do something that even surprises yourself as you reach out and interlock your fingers with his. He notices and smiles.

After a moment he frees his hand and takes off his hooded top, then roots through the pockets before presenting you with a small folded piece of paper. You look at it curiously and then back to him as you unfold it. Your eyes run over the picture before you, the messy colouring, the poorly formed letters and you smile sadly.

"Are Leah made me promise to give that to you when I next saw you…"

You look back at the photo and feel the light go out of your eyes. "What…what did you tell them?"

You watch Steven's smile fade and it twists in your gut. "I told them that you'd gone away for a little while…but that you still loved me and them very much."

You huff a small, pathetic laugh – not because it isn't true but because it reminds you of what you once had – a family and how they made you feel something that you never thought you'd feel again ever since that monster took away your innocence. They made you…happy. You fold up the paper and look back to Steven, whose watching you with an intensity that burns through you and into your soul.

"Do they not have someone else to be drawing pictures of?"

"No." He says quickly and simply.

You stare at him, softening your features. "You know I wouldn't blame you Steven…"

He gulps and his eyes give way. There's a look of guilt in there. A look of guilt that you don't deserve. "Alright, there is someone but I'm not going to see him anymore. Not now I've got you again."

"He loves you Steven."

He narrows his eyes and shakes his head. "How do you know?"

"How could he not?" You say matter of factly because not only have you met the guy but you just don't understand why anyone with half a brain wouldn't love him.

"Shut up." He says bashfully. "Besides I don't need anyone else to love me. You love me and that's all that matters."

He looks at you with a smile in his eyes, a smile that you can't even begin to contemplate being meant for you. You can't do this to him, not again. "Steven-"

"No, Brendan. Let's just be normal, yeah? There's only 30minutes. Please."

You look at him analytically. Was he pre-empting what you were going to say? That you were going to tell him to go and never come back. But there's this pleading look in his ocean eyes and selfishly, you can't say no. "Ok, Steven."

For the next 30minutes you talk about everything and anything. From how the business is doing, to the kids, to Amy. You don't even scratch the surface of what you really want to ask him. How he's coped on his own, how he got those scars on his face – you're too scared to hear the answer. Petrified even. He does most of the talking obviously and you find yourself get in lost in his voice, in his elongated vowels, in him…everything him.

"What?" He says as he looks at you.

"What?" You respond, snapping out of the trance he's put you in.

"You. You're looking at me with this dead goofy face."

"Goofy? Me?" You say as you lower your head and look at him through hooded eyes. "Really?"

He nods eagerly with a proud smile on his face and then looks behind him. "I'm dead hungry me. Gunna get a mars bar. You want one?"

You shake your head and smile gently as you pat your stomach. "My body is temple Steven."

"Yeah," He says as he eyes your body up and down, making your groin stir with desire. "And don't I know it."

And that's when it hits you. That you're never going to get to explore his body. Never going to take him in your mouth, never going to hear him scream your name, never going to sit down to a meal together, go for a drink together, take the kids to school and then you're angry at yourself, for even considering a life with him a possibility. For giving yourself some…hope but what makes you even angrier is that you give it to him. You can't give him the things he needs, the life he deserves but you know he won't give up on you…he's one of the only people that never has.

You rip a small corner of the paper off and scribble down something before sliding it into his pocket. When he comes back you smile at him and spend the next 10 minutes being normal.

"So I'll visit again next week yeah?"

You remain still, unaffected. "I'll be seeing you Steven." You smile simply before he leans down to give you one, final, lingering kiss and then he walks out of your life. Only this time, you know it's forever.

….

You return to your empty flat and relief swims over you. You don't fancy seeing Chris just yet. You know he'll be asking you a million and one questions about your day, like he always does. You know he only does it because he cares and you appreciate it, all his help, getting you through the tough times when you saw no light at the end of the tunnel. Your heart has always belonged to someone else though and right now you want to bask in him, every little piece of him. You don't want to have to think how you're going to break it off with Chris and instead you close your eyes and if you think hard enough, you can still feel Brendan's soft moustache tickling your upper lip.

You walk into your bedroom and route to the very back of your cupboard, pulling out a small cardboard box. You sit on your bed and rummage through it, photo's of him, you, the both of you, your own little family. You pick up his cufflink that you found the day the police left and run it on your chin. You smile – this is the first day of the rest of your life.

…

You reach your cell and slump against the wall. You unfold the picture that Leah had drawn you again and smile sadly, holding it to your cheek. You know what you have to do now. You're going to give him everything he deserves - one way or another. You call over one of the guards you can manipulate. One of the guards you've got something over.

"You know that favour you owe me?" You watch the guard nod anxiously as you lean in and whisper. "Well I'm calling it in."

….

It's been 3 hours since you saw him. As you looked through old photo's and old memories that you made together. You'd fallen asleep and woken up with a photo attached to your face. One that you'd taken when he was asleep, just after you'd made love. You're feeling a bit flustered so you decide to take off your jacket but before you do you reach inside your pocket to grab your phone but instead you feel a small piece of paper. You narrow your eyebrows as you take it out and read :

'_In the next life, Steven.'_

Your throat feels dry all of a sudden so you gulp but your heart begins to bang. You hear a knock at the door and it sends a cool shiver down your spine. You run to it as the knocks get more frantic and you pull on the handle, almost swinging the door off its hinges.

"Mr Steven Hay?" You nod, nervously at the man before you as he shows you his police badge. "I'm sorry. But I have some bad news…"


End file.
